


What's In a Kiss

by lady_krysis (saekhwa)



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Aphrodisiacs, Community: kink_bingo, Dubious Consent, Hand Job, Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-12
Updated: 2009-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/lady_krysis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk enjoys the consequence of frolicking with an alien life form.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's In a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks **TONS** to [](http://lunesque.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**lunesque**](http://lunesque.dreamwidth.org/) for being my beta. She knows she rocks. It's true, and I completely agree.

"Damn it, Jim!" McCoy's brows furrow together and his jaw sets in a hard line that makes Kirk laugh.

"C'mon, Bones, you gotta loosen up," Kirk says with his characteristic grin, playful and warm.

McCoy's frown deepens. "Do you have any idea—"

"I couldn't pass it up." Kirk holds his right hand in front of his face and lightly trails the fingertips of his left hand down his open palm. His eyes drift shut and he exhales a breath, a shiver rolling up his spine. "And it feels great, I gotta tell ya—Ow!" Kirk slaps a hand to his neck and glares at McCoy, only the second person on this ship who could kill a high like this, but then he's too focused on the pressure of his fingertips against his throat and—

"All you did was kiss her?" McCoy asks, tone brooking no arguments or how-cool-is-this remarks. He's all doctor, and it's such a turn on. Of course for Kirk, everything is a turn on right now.

"Well, we did a little more than that," Kirk says with a wink, and he begins to molest his neck. Head lolling to the side, he trails his fingers up and down the taut curve of his throat, rasping his nails against his skin and shivering at the prickle of heat that follows.

McCoy pushes down Kirk's hand and runs the medical scanner over Kirk one more time, shaking his head. "There's no telling what the lasting side effects might be—"

"Shut up, Bones," Kirk lazily murmurs just before he seals his mouth over McCoy's. Kirk's tongue dips soft and slow into McCoy's mouth, and Kirk loses himself in the texture of McCoy's teeth and tongue and cheek.

So he's surprised when McCoy tears away, retreating several steps with an exasperated, "Jim, you're not—" But then Kirk's lips silence him again and his palm presses firm against McCoy's groin.

"Wow, that kiss was worth it," Kirk murmurs with a grin and then shifts his palm down to map the curve of McCoy's lengthening erection, his skin prickling from the texture of McCoy's pants. "This alien exploration thing is _great_."

"Damn it, Jim, I'm your _doctor_," McCoy chokes out, fingers wrapping like steel around Kirk's wrist, "not a-a—"

"So help me out here," Kirk says, as if it's the most reasonable thing in the world as he nuzzles McCoy's neck. It makes his skin flush warm with pleasure, so he takes a step into McCoy and softly rubs his cheek against McCoy's. McCoy blows out a breath, the warm air that hits Kirk's ear and neck making him shiver with a breathless moan that quickly dies when McCoy takes a firm step back.

Kirk watches McCoy's eyes widen slightly, and McCoy presses a hand to his cheek with a ferocious, "Damn it! You've infected me." And Kirk can see in the set line of McCoy's jaw, the way McCoy automatically reaches for his scanner, that McCoy is thinking about a thousand things that could go wrong—And then Kirk gets distracted by the heavy feel of his clothes against his skin as McCoy says, "We've got to get to sick bay right now."

"What's the hurry?" Kirk asks, rubbing a hand across his chest with a lazy smile.

McCoy shakes his head and starts listing off all the reasons _why_ they should be worried—Kirk's hand drifts lower—and how Kirk's decision-making capabilities are impaired--Kirk dips his hand beneath his shirt—and blah, blah, blah, blah.

Kirk stumbles into McCoy, throwing the doctor into the wall and closing his mouth over McCoy's for a messy kiss, all teeth and tongue. McCoy grunts when his back hits the wall, and Kirk suddenly thinks that Bones is probably a screamer—Kirk sucks hard on McCoy's bottom lip as he shoves his hand into McCoy's pants so he can wrap his fingers around McCoy's cock, the heat of it making Kirk moan. McCoy groans, hands fisting tight in Kirk's hair, and now he's finally kissing back, just as messy, more teeth than tongue. Kirk doesn't mind the rough, fast way McCoy kisses because his skin is on fire, his nerve endings alight and sparking everywhere McCoy touches him.

Then it's all jerky movements because Kirk is desperate for more contact. He shoves up McCoy's shirt, getting distracted by the texture of it in his fist, and then McCoy's hand is shooting forward and tugging at his pants. Kirk haphazardly tries to help push his pants down, lifting his legs to step out of them even before they're past his knees, and he trips into McCoy, who grunts, opens his mouth to probably make another protest, but then Kirk is grinding into him and—Kirk's face brightens as he licks his palm. He licks it again, more slowly this time and marveling at the rasp of his tongue against his own skin—McCoy's teeth in his neck jolt him out of licking his palm a third time, and Kirk exhales a choked moan as he wraps his fingers around McCoy's cock. When McCoy returns the favor, his rough hand fisting Kirk's cock with tight, quick strokes, Kirk briefly thinks that alien saliva is the coolest thing _ever_ and then all his thoughts flee at the feel of McCoy's hands and teeth, and Kirk, feverish and dizzy, just pistons his hips into McCoy's fist.

Kirk cries out at the feel of McCoy's teeth in his neck again, and he comes hard, hips jerking sporadically forward as McCoy milks him. Kirk breathes out a small whine, sagging against McCoy and rubbing his cheek against McCoy's shoulder and neck. McCoy's fingers wrap around Kirk's hand to tighten his grip, and in three quick jerks, McCoy comes with a harsh breath and a shudder. So, maybe not a screamer, Kirk thinks, stroking his fingertips over McCoy's dick, and when McCoy looks up, Kirk silences him with another kiss.

"Afterglow, Bones," Kirk murmurs, and he flicks his tongue against McCoy's upper lip, his skin still too sensitive and hot, demanding more, more, more.

"Jim," McCoy says, breathing heavy, struggling to shift away, "we need to—"

"Relax, Bones. It's just a kiss."


End file.
